


Let it Snow

by arituzz



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital, Carry On Countdown (Simon Snow), Doctor!Baz, Doctor/Patient, Fluff, M/M, Patient!Simon, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 11:31:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8843041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arituzz/pseuds/arituzz
Summary: Sometimes, Simon wanted to wrap him in his arms and soothe him to sleep. Sometimes he just wanted to join him and cry together. But he couldn’t. Because Dr. Pitch was like snow. Simon could only admire him from the other side of the glass. As close as he may look, he was absolutely unreachable.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Carry On Countdown, on tumblr. Prompt: Let it Snow

It had been years since it had last snowed in London. Yes, at least once a year you could see little snowflakes falling from the sky, but it had been a long time since it last _really_ snowed.

Simon could spend hours just watching the snow fall, from the other side of the old, hospital window. It was hypnotizing. It was cold but Simon didn’t care, he was always warm.

“I hate snow,” his doctor, always a rather silent companion, said beside him. Dr. Pitch, a young man probably Simon’s age. Must have been a brilliant student to work as an oncologist at such a young age, Simon thought.

Dr. Pitch was a rare creature. When he was around, Simon was suddenly surrounded by a cold but somehow soothing feeling. Just like with snow. Simon called it the Dr. Pitch effect. He didn’t talk much, but his presence alone was overwhelming.

Simon liked to play a game in his head in which he imagined Dr. Pitch’s regular life outside the hospital. He’d imagine him doing the most mundane chores, like cleaning. Simon was sure Dr. Pitch had an obsession with cleanliness. And that he liked to cook—especially for breakfast. He’d imagine him burning his toasts, just for the simple fun of it, not because he thought he was the kind of bloke to actually burn his toasts. No. Dr. Pitch wasn’t like any kind of guy. He appeared to be cold-hearted, distant. But he wasn’t.

Some nights, Simon could feel Dr. Pitch’s presence at the other end of the room. Probably thinking Simon was fast asleep. Some nights he could hear him crying in silence. 

What a lonely man he was.

Sometimes, Simon wanted to wrap him in his arms and soothe him to sleep. Sometimes he just wanted to join him and cry together. But he couldn’t. Because Dr. Pitch was like snow. Simon could only admire him from the other side of the glass. As close as he may look, he was absolutely unreachable.

How lonely they both were.

So this was a first. Dr. Pitch had not only spoken voluntarily, unannounced and unperturbed, but he had also revealed something _personal_ about him.

“Wow, that’s progress,” said Simon.

“I’m sorry?”

“Isn’t it too late for snow, though?” It wouldn’t hurt to push him a little more, given this unprecedented case of earnestness.

“It’s never too late for snow.” It was obviously crazy late for snow. It was fucking April. But Dr. Pitch liked to talk like that sometimes. All metaphorically or something. Because Simon’s last name was Snow. This was Dr. Pitch trying to say ‘never give up, Snow’ or some shit like that.

“But you hate it.”

“I do.”

“Why?” The unthinkable thing here wasn’t the mid-April snow.

“Snow is… too pure. Too fragile.” The craziest of it all was Dr. Pitch actually answering Simon’s questions. “One day snow is all you can see, and the next it’s all gone. Not a trace that it ever was there in the first place.” Maybe it was a day for impossibilities.

“So dramatic. It’s just frozen water, doc. Why are you here watching it then, if you hate it?”

“I can’t help it.”

They stood silent, just watching the snowflakes come and go, each one of them with the same destiny – down.

“Shouldn’t you head home, doctor? Don’t you have a family waiting for you to play in the snow? I’ve always wanted to play in the snow, but my dad wouldn’t let me. He’d say it was dangerous in my condition. And he was probably right. But fuck it. Everything is dangerous in my condition. Right, doc?”

Dr. Pitch’s eyes were still fixed on the window. His mind probably miles away. That was the usual Dr. Pitch: body, present; mind, not.

Simon watched Dr. Pitch’s body stiffen, his hand clenching into a fist, and wondered what he was thinking. Whatever it was, it hurt him. And it hurt Simon to see him like that.

“You are so pale, doctor. Are you always this pale or is it only when you talk to me?” Simon said to change the topic. “And I’ve noticed you never sleep, so I wouldn’t be surprised if you were actually a vampire.”

“What?” That seemed to bring Dr. Pitch back from wherever his mind had gone. “I do sleep.”

“Please. You think i don’t hear you eating salt and vinegar crisps while you think i’m asleep?”

“Oh.” Then the miracle happened. Dr. Pitch’s eyes crinkled at the corners, and his lips twitched slightly upwards. He was smiling. “But shouldn’t my skin be chalk white if I were a vampire?”

“That’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever said, doc. Haven’t you watched _Blade_?”

“What?”

“ _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_?” Dr. Pitch shook his head almost apologetically.  “Oh, for fuck’s sake, _Twilight_?”

“Sorry, I don’t watch TV at all.”

“Okay, then I’ll explain it to you your way.”

“What’s _my_ way?”

“Nerdy.”

“You mean scientifically?”

“Yeah whatever you prefer to call it, doc.” There was that tiny smile again. “Okay, vampires don’t produce blood. So they have to take it from other sources. Now, skin colour, as well as hair colour, is determined by the pigment melanin, which is produced within the skin cells. So, vampires don’t change their pigmentation. They get paler, because they have less blood, and they don’t fancy the sun much. Just like you. So you can be a vampire, brown skin and all.” Dr. Pitch had followed Simon’s explanation like it was the most interesting thing in the world, making his smile a little bigger. And everything a little better. “But you’re a doctor, you should know that.”

“Must have missed that lecture on vampire pigmentation.” Their eyes locked and they both burst out laughing. Dr. Pitch was laughing. It was probably the best sound in the world. “Where have you learned all that stuff?” Dr. Pitch asked, after recovering his breath.

“I’ve had a lot of free time. And I like vampires. And you know… learning about cells”

Suddenly Dr. Pitch’s eyes fell to his feet, and his smile vanished. His face was full of that pain again.

“I’m not going to be your doctor anymore,” he said. His voice almost a whisper.

“Not a fan of lost causes, are you?”

“You’re not a lost cause, Simon.”

 _Simon._ It was the first time he called him Simon. The word resonated in his head, making Simon’s heart shake. _Simon. Simon. Simon_.

“Come on. I know I’m going to die soon. I may look like it but i’m not a complete idiot. I know the treatment isn’t working. I know my fate. That doesn’t mean i’m going to stop fighting.” Dr. Pitch’s suffering seemed to increase with each word Simon said. Maybe Simon _was_ Dr. Pitch’s pain. “Don’t pity me, doc.”

“Stop calling me doc.”

“Then tell me your name.” And because it was a day for the impossible, Simon grabbed Dr. Pitch’s hand. It was expectedly cold. Simon wanted to give him some of his warmth, so he laced their fingers together and squeezed his hand. And because it really was a day for the impossible, Dr. Pitch didn’t retreat. And he actually squeezed back. “You know,” Simon continued, “when I recover, you can invite me to your house and I can meet your sisters, I’ve always thought you had a lot of siblings, yeah? And you’ll cook roast beef for all of us and I’ll bake sour cherry scones, just like the ones we have here in the hospital but with a lot more butter. And then we can all play football. I’ve always liked to play football.”

“Simon, you can’t play football.”

 _Simon_ again.

“You only say that because you know I’d kick your ass.” Dr. Pitch half-smiled at that.  “You have to pretend you get an endgame, you know. You have to carry on like you will; otherwise you can’t carry on at all.”

“So what’s your endgame?” Dr. Pitch asked.

_What was his endgame?_

“Remember that time when you took a break and then you got very sick?” Simon said.

“Back in september, yes.”

“Well, during that time i had the worst chemo ever.”

“I am aware.”

“Maybe it was the universe trying to tell us something. “

“I don’t follow you, Simon.” Three Simons in one day. Wow. Simon wasn’t sure if his heart could handle a fourth one.

“We were apart. And we were both hurting.”

“I guess?”

“You know, doc, it’s the good things that hurt when you’re missing them. Maybe we were just missing each other.”

“I’m not a good thing for you.”

“You don’t get to decide that.”

Simon strengthened his grip on his hand. Dr. Pitch still didn’t retreat, but he didn’t say anything for a while.

“Baz,” he finally said. “And it’s not pity.”

“What?”

“My name. It’s Basilton, you can call me Baz.”

“Oh. Baz. I like it. I knew you’d have a ridiculously posh name. Basilton Pitch.” Baz. It sounded good. “Baz,” he tried again. It sounded really good. “Then what is it, if it’s not pity?”

“Snow.”

“What?”

“Let’s go play in the snow.”

“Are you serious?”

“Always.”

They both rushed out of the building, and started throwing snowballs at each other, just  like a pair of little kids. That was something Simon would have given anything for. To be able to just play like a little kid. To be happy.

“I’ve always wanted to make a snow angel,” Simon confessed.

“Go on, then. No one’s stopping you.”

“You too, Baz!”

“Uhm, no thanks. I think I’d rather stand.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun.”

Simon took both of Baz’s hands and tried to push him. But Baz’s foot slipped, sending them both to the floor.

“Looks like you’ve fallen for snow, ha,” Simon said laughing, on top of him.

“Idiot.” Baz was smiling and Simon’s heart skipped a beat. “Can I tell you something?”

“Anything.”

“I love snow.”

“I thought you said you hated it?”

“Not _that_ snow.” That was a sight simon wanted to remember forever. Dr. Pitch—no, Baz—lying on the floor with his cheeks reddish brown and the snow surrounding them. “Simon I–”

Any other day, it would have seemed ludicrous for Simon to rest his hands on Baz’s face. To let out a deep breath over his face and rub their noses together. To lean in and kiss him. And Baz kissing him back. It certainly was a day for impossibilities.

Kissing Baz was like like letting the snow fall over him. It was cold but gentle against his skin. It was something he’d never have dreamt about.

Snowflakes kept falling over them as they kissed.

“It looks like it won’t stop,” Simon said, recovering his breath. He didn’t know if he meant the snow falling or his heart racing.

“Yeah. Let it snow, Simon,” said Baz, joining their mouths together again. “Let it snow forever.”

Maybe the snow wasn’t unreachable after all, Simon thought. 

Everything was possible.

-FIN-


End file.
